


Agent Provocateur

by Mazarin221b



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: First Time, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, drunk!Harry, drunk!eggsy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-20 06:40:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4777328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mazarin221b/pseuds/Mazarin221b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five Times Harry and Eggsy Broke Protocol, and One Time Noone Cared.</p><p>  <i>Far be it from Eggsy to dissuade Harry from doing whatever it is he’s planning—he never has, not once in the three months since Harry came back on active duty.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. KMPD6.2-2012-R2  Limited Personal Use of Agency Materials, Resources, and Equipment

**Author's Note:**

> From a prompt by Kristen McHugh - thanks, and hope this is what you were looking for!
> 
> Blessed beta by Mydwynter and BakerStMel. You two are the most delightful friends anyone could ever want.

KMPD6.2-2012-R2 _Limited Personal Use of Agency Materials, Resources, and Equipment_

_While Kingsman resources, in general, are liberally and generously used to provide for the safety and comfort of our Agents, it is the policy of Kingsman to minimize the use of those resources for purely personal reasons, such as vacations, family transportation, and/or personal retaliatory missions. A gentleman is never greedy._

 ...............................................

Eggsy bounds up the Kingsman jet stairway, watches Harry disappear into the cockpit, and staggers into the aisle to collapse into the nearest seat. This mission owes him one, so he presses the button on the armrest to open the small drinks cupboard concealed in the wall panel and fumbles about with the bottles until he can pour himself a G&T, lean back, and let the buttery soft leather seat wrap itself around his shoulders and the smooth flight of the plane drain the tension from his neck.  

Six months in and getting shot at still is unnerving, even with the bullet-proof suits.

Another sip and the smooth gin slips down his throat, relaxes the tense set of his shoulders and the clench in his jaw.  Being a Kingsman agent may be the most hazardous job in the world, but the perks make it pretty damn worth it. And speaking of perks—

“How come we have to go all the way home before we get to see anything?” he asks, as Harry drops into the seat opposite and begins flicking through his tablet. He looks absolutely cool and composed, even with a stray bullet still flattened against his suit. It’s disgustingly unfair. Eggsy reaches out and brushes it away.

“Thank you. And I’m sorry? See anything of what?” Harry says.

Eggsy makes himself stop staring. “You know, Norway. Fjords, and ice shelves, and whales, and all that stuff everyone always talks about. I looked it up before we left, thought it looked nice. Just never been there before, s’all.” And he still hasn’t really seen much, if you ask him, despite his constant travels. Before Kingsman he’d only ever left London when he went to the beach a couple of times with his mum, and once when he left for the Marines. Valentine’s bunker doesn’t really count as visiting anywhere. Anyway, it’d just be nice to see something of the places he’s been going the last few months.

Harry looks up at Eggsy over the top of his tablet. “You know, I never really considered it, to be honest. But you’re right. Knowledge of the world is important for a Kingsman.” Harry’s brow crinkles as he studies his tablet, and then hands it over for Eggsy to see. “Why don’t we make a quick stop on the way home.”

“Iceland?”  

“Why not?”

Eggsy laughs. “Because it’s hundreds of kilometers out of the way? Because it’s like, against the rules? Besides, we’re supposed to debrief as soon as practical.”

“Bah. Merlin can take his debrief and shove it up his arse.” Eggsy snorts a laugh as Harry bounces up from his seat and heads for the cockpit. Far be it from Eggsy to dissuade Harry from doing whatever it is he’s planning—he never has, not once in the three months since Harry came back on active duty. Usually whatever hijinks he comes up with manages to get them both dressed down by Merlin and earns fed-up sighs from Arthur, but it’s always fun in the moment.

“Wait, are you…you are,” Eggsy says, as the plane executes a graceful right turn. The heads up display is now clear of any listed destination and Harry is perfectly at ease behind the controls. This is one of the things Eggsy loves about Harry more than anything: once he’s decided to do something, he never second guesses. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t dither. He simply does, fully and completely. Eggsy’d give his left foot for that sort of confidence.

The sort of confidence that leaves Harry rolling his eyes dramatically when Merlin squawks over the comm not thirty seconds later.

“Galahad,” Merlin says, and the warning tone is clear in his voice. “Explain your alternate destination.”

“I am,” Harry says calmly, “taking Agent Tristan for a training trip. Only a day or so, and we’ll be back at HQ tomorrow. Nothing is on the schedule for the Legacy, we’re off active rotation for the next week. And as Agent in charge of personnel training, I think taking Eggsy to Reykjavik to experience Icelandic culture in preparation for the Clovicsson operation next month an excellent use of resources.”

There’s dead silence on the other end of the line. Eggsy holds his breath. He can practically see Merlin rubbing his temples.

Harry leans over, breath warm on Eggsy’s cheek, and says, _sotto voce_ , “Do you think he bought it?”

Eggsy has to slap his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud. As it is, he resorts to snorting, completely undignified, into his jacket sleeve.

Eventually there’s a sigh and the clicking of a keyboard that signals Merlin has, at least for now, moved on to other things. “Fine. But we’re going to have a chat about the difference between the letter and spirit of the law when you get back. Twenty four hours, Galahad. That’s it.”

“Splendid!” Harry says, and all the false delight he can manage coats his voice in sugar. “You’re an absolute darling, Merlin.”

“Kiss my arse,” crackles over the comm. “You’d better have learned something when you get home, Tristan, or so help me—“ and the comm drops into silence.

Harry laughs. He’d cut the transmission, the utter cock, and Eggsy drops his arm to laugh openly at what he’s sure is enough cursing to turn the air blue at HQ. He glances over at Harry, his head thrown back and raucous laughter crinkling his face into appealing little lines.  It’s mesmerizing, how his smile makes him seem so much younger, and the glint of mischief in his eye just that much more attractive.

Oh balls. That’s sort of out of nowhere, isn’t it? Well, perhaps not out of nowhere, but he thought he’d put a tight lid on anything involving Harry and attractive in the same sentence.

Eggsy forces himself to stop staring, catches his breath and asks, “Well, what am I going to learn, then?”

Harry grins at him, a sharp, predatory flash of teeth. “How many shots of Brennivin you can drink and still be standing.”

Eggsy sobers quickly. “What. What is Brenni – what?”

“Brennivin. The national liqueur of Iceland. Also known as The Black Death.”

Oh sweet Christ. Educational and training purposes his fucking arse. Looking at the gleeful expression on Harry’s face, he’s going to be lucky if he survives, and if he does, if he’s going to get out of whatever bollocking is waiting for him when he gets home. But when Harry reaches out and claps his hand on Eggsy’s shoulder and says “Good lad. Knew you’d be up for it. You’ve not let me down yet,” as he heads back into the cabin, Eggsy thinks it’ll totally be worth it.

 

 


	2. KMPD3.7-2008-R5  Drug and Alcohol Free Workplace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jesus Christ. Harold Reginald Hart, you’d better have a good explanation for this.”

KMPD3.7-2008-R5   _Drug and Alcohol Free Workplace_

_To the extent practicable, Kingsman Agents shall remain free of the influence of mind-altering substances while on duty. There are certain times partaking in alcohol or recreational drugs is an inevitable part of a mission; however, the expectation is that an Agent shall remain clear-headed in most work-related circumstances. A gentleman is always in control._

_**................................................................................................** _

“Jesus Christ. Harold Reginald Hart, you’d better have a good explanation for this.”

Eggsy blinks as he slowly navigates his way down the stairs of the Legacy, trying to put one foot in front of the other and not end up on his face at Merlin’s feet.

“It was the Brenni-“ he starts. “The Breenaveveen,” he tries again. No, that’s not right. He waves his hand in Merlin’s face. “The Black Death.” Merlin’s eyes widen, so Eggsy figures he must have got it out okay.  He looks over at Harry, who nods and gives him a thumbs up. Yeah, he totally said it right.

“The Brennivin,” Harry corrects anyway, and his enunciation is absolutely spot on. Just like him, to be drunk off his face and still speaking as well as he does. Bastard.

Merlin, however, does not look as impressed as he should. “Care to explain why you flew a 20 million pound jet to Iceland, _got rat-arsed drunk_ , and then decided, oh, sure, it would be a grand idea to fly it home while _still shitfaced_?”

“I,” Harry starts grandly, “Am not drunk. I am simply well-lubricated, and perfectly capable of flying an airplane as highly automated as the Legacy. I know, because I asked you to set it up that way. So don’t worry, _nanny_ ,” he says, and slaps Merlin’s shoulder. “We’re just fine. Home in one piece, even, and Tristan learned some valuable lessons about blending in with the locals. Right, Tristan?”

Eggsy flinches when he hears his name, swaying a bit on his feet. Shit, he’s tired. Maybe he could just settle into the recruit dorms for a bit, sleep it off…

“Tristan!” Merlin bellows, and Eggsy jumps.

“Fuckin’ hell, Merlin, you gotta tell the whole hangar? Fuck.” Eggsy shakes his head and starts to walk off toward the elevators that will take him back up into the estate house proper. A sleep, and coffee and toast, and he’ll be right as rain in about three hours.

“Oh, no you don’t. You two,” he points at both of them, and Harry’s eyebrows reach for his hairline. “You’re suspended for the next three days. And go change. You’re running this off.”

“Oh, come now, Merlin,” Harry protests. “You can’t be serious.”

Merlin looks stern, more stern than Eggsy’s ever seen him. “Don’t try me, Galahad. You’ve pushed too far, and I’m saving your arse by not reporting this to Arthur. Go change. I expect you and Tristan on the trail in fifteen. You’ve got a ten-minute mile minimum pace.  Now!” he barks, and Harry doesn’t waste time, then, and bolts from the hangar. Eggsy just stares for a moment until Merlin turns on him with stormcloud brows and a granite jaw.

Eggsy runs for it before anything else happens.

He changes quickly and meets Harry on the grounds. His stomach feels like it could crawl out of his throat, and his eyes are having a hard time staying open. Harry’s there in grey sweats and a long-sleeve tee with the Kingsman logo emblazoned on the front. A bit flashy for him, but he looks good. Fit. Eggsy feels like he just crawled out of a sewer.

Harry nods in acknowledgement and they push off, shoes crunching on the gravel path. The sun is high but it’s still cool, October really setting in and the leaves turning a thousand brilliant shades of crimson and gold. It was the sort of day early in his training that Eggsy loved, running with JB in the early mornings before anyone else was out and about. Now, though, he’s too distracted to care. First by Harry’s long legged stride and proud, tall back beside him, and then by his own stomach, acid and sharp as he swallows and breathes and tries to keep everything down.

They make it three laps. Merlin pops out and gives them hell when their pace drops, ignoring how Harry is starting to sweat profusely and Eggsy is breathing heavily through his mouth. Eggsy tries to keep up by watching Harry’s feet sort of shuffle through the gravel as he jogs, a steady movement that he tries to match. He doesn’t realize he’s zoning out completely until a sudden movement makes him look up. He’s instantly dizzy, and his stomach lets him know it.

“Harry,” he gasps, “I’m, I’m, sorry—“ is as far as he gets before he dives over to the side and retches onto the grass. He hears a revolting sound and realizes Harry is only a step or two behind him on the path, wiping his mouth as well. That must have been what distracted him, Harry stopping to empty his stomach.  Eggsy drops to his knees and heaves again, and he looks over at Harry ruefully.

“I feel like I’m gonna die,” he says, and flops onto the path. “Merlin’s gonna find me here. Tell him it’s all his fault. Tosser.”

Harry chuckles then gags as he throws up again, and groans. “Oh, bollocks,” he says, and sinks to the ground, stretching out next to Eggsy.  “Worth it, though,” he adds, and looks over with a grin. His fingers are just barely brushing Eggsy’s, their little fingers almost curled around each other’s on the crushed stone path. The sky is blue, blue, blue above them, not a hint of clouds, and even as sick as they both are there’s nowhere on Earth Eggsy’d rather be.

“Totally worth it,” he says.

 


	3. KMPD12.1-1951-R10 High Explosives: Situational Evaluation and Implementation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What the bloody hell did you do?” Eggsy asks, bewildered. “Merlin’s gonna kill you.”
> 
> “Whoops?” Harry says, then shrugs.

KMPD12.1-1951-R10 _High Explosives: Situational Evaluation and Implementation_

_As explosives (defined as any Kingsman issued grenade, bomb, missile, or other device intended to detonate) are, by their nature, highly visible, it is the policy of this Agency to limit their use except in high-value situations, or situations in which the alternative is death, capture, or loss of innocent life. A gentleman is always discreet._

_................................................................................................_

Eggsy rocks back on his heels when the blow lands, a nasty right hook to his cheek that he fully expects has loosened one if not more of his teeth.  He has to take it, though; he has to give Harry as much time as he needs to download the full database of clients this particular arms dealer has stashed away on his off-line desktop.

He tongues his gums. Yep, one loose molar. Christ, he hates going to the dentist. Hates being the bait, too, but he figures (and he’d die before he tells Harry this) he’d heal faster than Harry. Then again, Harry wouldn’t likely be so stupid as to get himself into this situation while being the distraction. Fuck, Roxy is going to laugh her arse off when she finds out.

“Where’s your friend, then,” Goon One asks, before he draws a nasty-looking knife and slips it carefully against Eggsy’s throat. Oh, hell. It’s sharp, too, and Eggsy can feel the steel parting the first layer of skin, blood welling up and dripping into his collar. “We know he’s here—we heard ya talking, before. Now, why don’t ya just tell us where we can find ‘im, hey? Make it easier on all of us.”

“Fuck off,” Eggsy says, and closes his eyes against the pressure on his jugular. If he can just get one foot out and around…there. Before Goon One reacts, Eggsy hooks his heel around the man’s knee and pulls forward, making him lose his balance and stumble forward, just enough for Eggsy to reach him with a nasty head-butt that leaves the man dazed on the floor. Goon Two and Three, before just content to hang out in the background, begin the fun in earnest then, leveling punches to Eggsy’s face and gut in equal measure.

“You little shit,” Goon One slurs, staggering up from the floor. “Gonna fuck you up right proper—“ is as far as he gets before the door flies open and Harry gets off a single shot to Goon One’s forehead. The other two dive behind a table as Harry crosses the room to cover Eggsy as well as quickly clip the zip ties off of his wrists.

“Run,” is all Harry says as he gets off covering fire. “I’ll be right behind you.” Eggsy darts through the door with Harry on his heels,and they skid around a corner and out the front door, pounding down the walk leading from the back of the house down toward the sea, the moonlight glinting off of the waves. Harry suddenly catches him up and urges them toward the beach instead of down the side-path that would lead them back toward the street and their extraction team. Eggsy isn’t sure why the push to get so far away, but then he hears it: a dull thump and crackling pop that heralds an explosion.

Eggsy and Harry both get flattened by the concussion wave, ending up face down on the cold, wet sand. Eggsy shakes himself and turns over in time to see the fireball brightening up the night sky, orange flame reflecting off of Harry’s glasses as he, too, watches the house go up in a way that is, without question, no accident.

“What the bloody hell did you do?” Eggsy asks, bewildered. “Merlin’s gonna kill you.”

“Whoops?” Harry says, then shrugs. “I may have perhaps left a few too many grenades in the server room I was supposed to eliminate.”

“A few too many? Jesus, Harry, you took out the entire house!” Eggsy giggles as he watches papers drift back toward the beach, debris scattered all along the path and floating in the pool. “You’re completely mental. Why?”

Harry doesn’t answer at first, merely stands and holds a hand out to pull Eggsy up. He gently brushes the sand from Eggsy’s shoulders, his face gentle and concerned and impossibly fond.

The amusement dies in Eggsy’s throat. He can barely breathe as watches Harry’s long fingers smooth down his lapels, trace a finger along Eggsy’s collar. He frowns at the shallow cut left in Eggsy’s throat by Goon One’s blade.

“My dear Tristan,” he starts. “Eggsy. I’ll not allow your blood to stain that house, for them to have any remembrance of it. I refuse to leave it in their possession.”

“I—“ Eggsy starts, but it’s impossible to finish because whatever he was going to say would be a mere shadow of what he’s feeling, the tight warmth crushing his chest and the grip of emotion in his throat keeping him silent. He knew, on some level, that Harry was fond of him. He knows they’re close: brothers-in-arms and colleagues and really good friends. But the searing flame wrapping his heart at this moment is more than a fondness born of shared adventure, and Eggsy almost gasps aloud at the realisation.

It’s enough of a shock that he takes a step backward, unsure of what he should do next. Harry must take that as some sort of rejection, because he simply smiles sadly, resigned, and turns to walk toward the extraction team’s SUV pulling in discreetly down the beach.

Oh God. Now what?

 


	4. KMPD2.1-1966-R26 Health and Safety Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Hence his hatred of missions with Harry, because he’s afraid one day in the aftermath he’s going to look at Harry with his tie undone and collar open and Eggsy’s going to launch himself across the car or plane or whatever transportation is getting them home this time and jump Harry’s bones, damn the consequences._

KMPD2.1-1966-R26 _Health and Safety Training_

_It is the goal of Kingsman to provide every Agent adequate training, knowledge, and skills necessary to perform their work with the least risk to personal health and safety. Given the value of a Kingsman Agent, however, it is necessary to ensure that each Agent takes responsibility for their own well-being before assisting another Agent. A gentleman is always beholden to a higher purpose._

...................................................................

Eggsy is starting to wish he wasn’t sent on missions with Harry as often as he is. Because after his little revelation on the beach in Malta when Harry blew up an entire house full of people just for the crime of touching him, he’s uncomfortably aware of just how very, very attracted he is to Harry: to his charm, his wit, the way he ignores the rules when it suits him and the way he looks at Eggsy like he wants to cart him off to his bedroom and never let him leave.

Yeah, Eggsy’s caught that look enough times the last month and each time leaves him sweating and flushed.  He’s finally opened the door to the attraction he’s tried so hard to keep down, and knows he’s doing fuck-all to hide that he’s interested, so he’s not sure why Harry isn’t making a move.  Eggsy’s not even sure why he’s not making a move himself, except that the idea of it leaves him feeling nervous and sick. But this little awkward mating dance they’re doing in the meantime is driving him mad. Hence his hatred of missions with Harry, because he’s afraid one day in the aftermath he’s going to look at Harry with his tie undone and collar open and Eggsy’s going to launch himself across the car or plane or whatever transportation is getting them home this time and jump Harry’s bones, damn the consequences.

Like now, when Harry is all lethal grace and brutality slicked down in a pinstripe suit. Eggsy doesn’t have time to admire the view as much as he’d like, though, because it’s currently raining hell from an interior balcony in the villa of a drug-funded anti-government guerrilla group in El Salvador.

“I suppose I should have accepted the drink when it was offered,” Eggsy shouts, as they run through the beautifully tiled courtyard, bullets pinging from the stone fountain.  

“Nonsense,” Harry answers, before he leaps behind a support pillar and fires back. “It was poisoned. You knew that.”

“Yeah, figured. But it’s fuckin’ hot, you know? I was thirsty.” Eggsy picks off two fighters and quickly reloads.

“Oh, I just took out one of the plumeria, shame,” Harry says. “I’d like to have one, someday.”

Eggsy grins. Harry and his fucked up sense of priorities. “What the fuck is a plumeria? You mean one of those trees?”

Harry winces as a chip of stone pillar ricochets off of his glasses. “Yes. The small yellow flowers. Beautifully fragrant.”

“Can you both stop the chatter and get the fuck out of there?” Merlin says. “You’ve got incoming reinforcements and I know for a fact not enough ammunition to hold them off.”

Harry ducks and rolls until he’s behind the same pillar as Eggsy. “Indeed. Tristan, you go first. I’ll cover your escape, then drop a grenade on the way out.” Eggsy hears a protesting noise over the comms. “Just one, Merlin, Christ. It’s incredibly rude of you to continue to bring up that incident in Malta.”

Eggsy comes over a bit hot even in the middle of a firefight. Yeah, it’s really fuckin’ rude of Merlin to keep bringing it up. Wait— “Oh, no. I’m not going first. You’re going first. I’ll cover you.”

“I’m not arguing with you, Tristan. Go, and that’s an order. Understood?”

Eggsy clamps down on a protest. As senior Agent, Harry is absolutely in charge. Defying him could bring a charge of insubordination and another suspension—a real one this time, not one of Merlin’s sadistic little punishments.

“Okay, I’m going. I’ll wait for your mark.” Eggsy tugs down his shirtsleeves and checks his pistol. Nine shots remaining.

“Excellent. In three, two, one, mark.” Harry discharges the shotgun blast from his pistol, and the noise and dust from hitting the stone fountain almost point-blank is deafening. Eggsy takes his cue and darts down the open corridor and through the gate; thankfully, he’s actually leaving from the side of the house and not the front. The trees and brush are thicker here, so Eggsy crashes through the undergrowth and crouches behind a tree. Harry should be right behind him any second now.

Except he isn’t. Harry isn’t coming out of the gate, and Eggsy’s clicked off near two minutes in his head. Then it’s three.

“Galahad, where the fuck are you?” he hisses into his comm. Nothing. “Merlin? He’s not responding.”

“Can’t raise him. Heat signature says he’s there, but his pulse rate is elevated and blood pressure low. He’s been hit and he’s in hiding. Go to the rendezvous and we’ll send in extraction.”

Eggsy can feel his pulse rise and panic try to fight its way out of his chest. No, not now, now when he’s just finally acknowledged what has settled in the strange space between them in the last few months. The feeling that’s been sitting quietly in his heart since Harry strode into HQ, polished and perfect like he hadn’t just left the infirmary two weeks before. “What? No! I can’t leave him, Merlin, he could die before extraction gets here!”

“Keep your voice down, lad. You’ve got to. We can’t have two agents down there to recover, having one is bad enough. Now get your arse to rendezvous. You’ll regroup with the extraction team and go in when you can. Harry will keep himself safe until then.”

Eggsy grits his teeth. He can still see the gate, not more than 20 meters from his present location. A fighter sticks his head out and looks around for a moment, but goes back inside, locking the gate after him.

Shit. Shit balls fuck. Now Harry’s locked inside.

Eggsy knows he should go meet with the extraction team, but he even before he cuts transmission on his glasses he knows what he’s going to do. As much as he’s wished for Harry’s confidence, this isn’t how he pictured having it: an icy calm that steals over him, quiets his nerves and steadies his hand. It’s  comforting. There’s no way on this Earth Eggsy’s going to leave this place without Harry, no chance that the man he—he loves, let’s just stop beating around the bush, here—is going to bleed out on the floor in some random house in Madrid. He won’t allow it.

The underbrush is rough, prickly with thorns and hooks that catch on his suit, but Eggsy manages to push back through with barely a sound, so quiet even the birds above have taken no notice of him and continue squawking loudly in the canopy. If he simply throws open the gate and barges in, there’s no way he’ll find Harry in time, and might even manage to get them both discovered. So Eggsy hunkers down on the edge of the forest, now only 10 meters from the door, and thinks.

Inside the villa, six meters down the hall. There’s a large open courtyard in front of him. Eight rooms opening from the courtyard. Three other hallways. In the middle, a fountain of a greek lady pouring water from a vase.  Tall stands of potted plumeria, arranged in clumps, branches reaching for the slip of sky above them, hibiscus fragrant in the rapidly closing evening. If he were Harry, where would he be in the short moment of time he could hide as every eye followed Eggsy down the corridor and out of sight?

He knows, surer that a heartbeat, where Harry is. That if he walks straight into the courtyard, he’ll find Harry right in the middle of those damned plumerias, hidden like a child amongst the large pots.  

The gate doesn’t make a sound as he picks the lock and slips inside, counts off the steps down the now-empty hall as reinforcements converge outside and everyone has gone to meet them. They’re regrouping, and Eggsy has exactly one chance.

He whistles, low, two notes that echo back to him from the left. Thank Christ.

Harry is right where Eggsy expected him to be, sat right on his bum in the middle of the plumeria, a petal of which has fallen and landed in his hair. Eggsy would laugh except for the scarlet blooming over Harry’s right hand where it’s clutched over his left shoulder.

“Through the suit? That’s just not fair,” Eggsy says. “Let’s go.”

“Not sure—“ Harry says, and Eggsy doesn’t have time to bicker with him, he simply hauls him up to standing. He’s fading quickly, and as he stands, the blood he’s lost is fairly clear in the smudged puddle on the floor.

“Shit,” Eggsy says, and takes off his coat to mop up the blood and then, before Harry can react, squats down to lift him, fireman-style, over his shoulders. He can feel the blood from Harry’s wound seep into his own clothes as he walks quickly down the corridor and toward the gate.

“You are ridiculous,” Harry says, but it’s weak, quiet, and Eggsy is just ready to have this over with now. This mission, and this asinine back and forth they’re doing, and whatever else. He’s more than done, and he hopes like hell he’s going to get chance to finish it once and for all. Because he understands now what it’s like to have your heart walking around outside of your body, living and breathing independent of you, and wanting to have it near every moment of every day, because that’s what he’s stuck with, now. And his heart is stuttering, shaking, shivery and cold as he takes a deep breath and settles Harry more firmly.

“Shut up,” he says. “Get that gate latch, and then we’re gonna meet extraction, and you’re going to hospital. And if I’m not thrown out on my arse for this, we’re gonna have a talk.”

“Mmmm,” is all Harry says, before he finally passes out.  Eggsy walks the two miles through the forest to the extraction point, Harry slung over his shoulders, with grim determination. Carrying the heavy weight of his body is nothing. Given all that Harry means to him, Eggsy thinks, as extraction lifts him into the chopper and starts a stabilising IV, Eggsy would carry much more of a burden than that. Harry’s worth it.

 


	5. KMPD5.4-2001-R12  Hours of Work Policy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _This mission report was gonna be hell to put together. How’s he going to explain himself?_
> 
> _“Yeah, you’re going to be suspended without pay for a week, if I were guessing,” Merlin says with a frown. “I’m not going to be able to hide this one, lad. I can only hope you’re sure.”_
> 
> _Eggsy stops typing, because his fingers are a bit shaky and he can’t seem to make words string together in ways that make sense. He looks up at the monitors over Harry’s bed and watches their reassuring, steady blip. “Yeah, it’s worth it,” he says._

KMPD5.4-2001-R12   _Hours of Work Policy_

 _Every Kingsman Agent is considered on duty at all times, given the sporadic nature of the work_ _and the occasional lack of  advance notice before mission assignment.  However, Agents may expect eight weeks of allotted leave time in the course of a year, as well as three days rest following any mission longer than 24 hours. A gentleman should have other pursuits than his work._

.............................................................................................................. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Merlin says, as he settles on the second guest chair in Harry’s room.  “He’s going to be out of it for a while yet.  You’ve earned your three days, you need to take them.”

“Probably earned more than that, gov,” Eggsy says glumly, as he taps away at his laptop. This mission report was gonna be hell to put together. How’s he going to explain himself?

“Yeah, you’re going to be suspended without pay for a week, if I were guessing,” Merlin says with a frown. “I’m not going to be able to hide this one, lad. I can only hope you’re sure.”

Eggsy stops typing, because his fingers are a bit shaky and he can’t seem to make words string together in ways that make sense. He looks up at the monitors over Harry’s bed and watches their reassuring, steady blip. “Yeah, it’s worth it,” he says.

“Good.” Merlin stands and heads for the door. “Just be sure he knows that.”

“Working on it,” Eggsy says absently, and continues to watch the monitors as the door closes.

That’s the rub, though, isn’t it? Now that Harry’s life isn’t flashing before Eggsy’s eyes, the whole confessing business seems just that much more daunting. “Hey, Harry, glad you’re alive. Just wanted to let you know I’m absolutely gone on you, and, you know, want to shag you six ways from Sunday” doesn’t seem like the sort of confession you want to make as soon as he wakes to a man who almost bled to death in a helicopter flying across Central America.

But wake he does, four days later as Eggsy is sleeping with his head lying on Harry’s bed, having only left long enough to take a shower in the gym and throw on his workout clothes in place of his suit two days prior. Eggsy feels fingers in his hair before his eyes snap open to see Harry awake, watching him.

“Oh my God,” Eggsy says. “Oh my God, finally. I thought that damn sedative they’d had you on was never gonna wear off!”

Harry smiles, and his eyes are still a bit droopy. “Needed the rest, my boy. Simply needed a rest.”

“Okay, old man, whatever you say. Like you didn’t take out half that militia on your own before you sent me on like a bloody great prat and got yourself shot.”

“Yes, and don’t think I don’t remember you coming back to get me, I’m sure against Merlin’s orders.”

“Maybe,” Eggsy says, and they just sit there grinning stupidly at each other until the door opens and the doctor, Merlin, and Arthur come in.

“Ah, Galahad. Delightful to see you coming around,” Arthur says, and he still sounds just as warm and friendly as he was when he was Bors, to everyone’s relief. “You must stop adding bullet scars to your collection, my dear man. At this rate it’s going to become fatal.”

“Indeed. Well, I can thank Tristan for the fact that it wasn’t, this time,” Harry says, and tries to sit up a bit straighter, to the fretful tutting of the doctor. “My location wasn’t particularly secure, and I was bleeding profusely. I doubt I’d have stayed hidden much longer. Certainly not as long as the extraction team would have taken to retrieve me.”

Eggsy blinks, astonished. That’s not at all what Merlin said at the time, when he was trying to get Eggsy out of the situation entirely. Eggsy catches Merlin’s eye and he looks back, challenging.

“Indeed. Well, I’ve seen the mission report from Merlin. I’ll reserve judgment on this particular situation until I see yours, Tristan, and yours, Galahad. I realize the two of you have managed quite a few tricks in your time—no, Merlin, no protesting, I knew about the incident in Iceland before you sent them on punishment—but this one is a bit of a worry.” He turns to Eggsy and his eyes are kind, if stern. “I expect your very best, Tristan. I expect you to follow orders, and I expect you to follow protocol. It’s there for your protection and the survival of this Agency. Still. You’re young, and I believe there are…mitigating factors,” he says, and winks at Harry. “So we’ll determine appropriate sanctions at a later date, when everyone’s emotions are a bit, shall we say, more resolved.”

Eggsy can feel his face turn bright red, and he doesn’t dare look at Harry at this point. Merlin simply chuckles and follows Arthur out, letting the door close softly behind them.

“Mitigating factors?” Harry says, a twinkle in his eye. “How very interesting.”

Oh God. He’s starting to regret saving Harry’s arse already. But still, as he watches in total disbelief as Harry reaches out to take his hand and slot their fingers together, as he raises Harry’s hand in his and shakily kisses his fingertips, Eggsy can only think one thing.

Totally worth it.

 

 


	6. KMPD3.9-2001-R3  Sexual Harassment Policy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Harry,” Eggsy starts, heart beating wildly. “Harry, I’d do it again. Honest. I don’t care about the suspension and I don’t care about bloody Arthur and Merlin and whatever else they decide to slap me with.”_

KMPD3.9-2001-R3   _Sexual Harassment Policy_

_Sexual harassment has no place in Kingsman. Unwelcome sexual advances, requests for sexual favors, and other verbal or physical conduct of a sexual nature where the acceptance of those advances or compliance with that conduct is used to determine employment status, promotion, or other terms of employment is prohibited. Fraternization between staff members of differing rank is forbidden, as the implied power imbalance cannot be overcome. A gentleman never takes what cannot be freely offered._

............................................................................................................

It’s another week before Harry leaves the hospital, a week of Eggsy living with his heart in his throat and waiting, waiting, watching with burning eyes from the cot he’s set up in the corner, but never saying more than they have already. He watches Harry regain strength as his blood volume returns, cheerfully helps him work through the tedious acts of shaving and pulling on a shirt and tying his shoes. Eggsy sees the annoyance in the twitch of his mouth when he can’t reach the laces so the next day, the day of Harry’s discharge, he simply brings him a pair of slip-on Oxfords. Harry wrinkles his nose in distaste.

“They’re hideous,” he says, poking at one with a toe. “Completely revolting. And tasteless. And out of regulations.”

“Yeah, but you can put them on for now and no one will know. Just stick your damn feet in the shoes, Harry, because I’m not going to be there every morning to do your laces for you.”  Eggsy wants to explain that he would be, if Harry asks, there every morning without fail like the sun rising. He wants to be there to help with all of these ridiculous little things that Harry finds annoying now, to be able to be counted on and relied upon and simply there, next to Harry for the rest of his days.

“Damn,” Harry snaps, bringing Eggsy back out of his own head. Harry had picked up his hold-all and rainmaker before Eggsy could do it for him, then promptly had set them back down. “I think I’ve overestimated my ability to carry things. Eggsy, if you’d be so kind?”

Eggsy has no problem with being so kind. He carries all of Harry’s things down to the shuttle and from the shuttle through the shop, and as he pauses with a hand on the doorframe of the taxi, he realises this will be the first time in two weeks he’s not slept listening to Harry breathe from across the room.

“I s’pose I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?” he says, and fiddles with his shirt cuffs.

Harry clears his throat and looks up from the taxi seat with a small smile. “Indeed. But, Eggsy, I don’t suppose…well. I’m rather at loose ends this evening, and I thought perhaps you’d like to come to mine and I could order in dinner, to say thank you.  You’ll be on suspension I’m sure in a few weeks and I’d be very angry with you if I were Arthur but, well.” Harry blinks up at him, and his eyes are so open, so sincere. “Thank you. For all of it.”

“Harry,” Eggsy starts, heart beating wildly. “Harry, I’d do it again. Honest. I don’t care about the suspension and I don’t care about bloody Arthur and Merlin and whatever else they decide to slap me with.”

Harry eyes him steadily. The taxi driver coughs pointedly, and Eggsy realizes there’s got to be a better place to do this than on a street in Saville Row. “Hang on, let me climb in. We’re going to have dinner, right? So let’s pop into this Indian place I know on the way to your place, if that’s okay.”

Harry blinks confusion, then seems to shake himself into a more casual demeanor.“Delightful. I could use some vindaloo after weeks of watery mash and lime jelly.” Harry slides his bags onto the floor to make space. Eggsy take a deep breath and climbs in and the closeness, the shoulder-brushing nearness of Harry sets his nerves alight. His stomach is so full of knots there’s no way he’s going to be able to eat whatever they order.

The car pulls away and Eggsy calls in their order to be ready as they drive past—Christ, fifteen minutes of traffic in this city in a closed-in space with Harry and he’s crawling mad with it— and another fifteen minutes to get to Stanhope Mews. By this point Eggsy is overtly jittery, catching shy glances from Harry the entire way there and feeling sure each one is leaving a brand on his skin visible in the fading autumn light.

They finally arrive, and the driver is kind enough to drop Harry’s things right inside the front door. Eggsy gives him a twenty for his trouble and gets a hat tip and a “Good luck, mate,” in return.  Eggsy closes the front door and finds Harry in his kitchen, trying to fiddle with plates and forks and cartons one-handed.

“Here, let me help with that,” Eggsy says, and reaches one of the cartons just as it starts to slide from the tidy stack Harry had been trying to carry. He makes a neat catch and lifts the other cartons from Harry’s hands and deposits them on the worktop.

“Seems my balance isn’t what it should be yet,” Harry says ruefully, and its then Eggsy notices his hand is shaking, minutely, just a tiny little tremor where there had always been steadiness. That shouldn’t be, there’s no weakness in his right hand, just…

And it hits him with a force like a grenade blast, like a fireball in the night, that for once Harry is nervous. He’s unsure and jittery, just as Eggsy is.

Eggsy takes the plates from Harry’s hands and places them on the counter. Turns to face Harry and reaches forward to lightly lay his hands on Harry’s shirtfront and takes a deep breath. “Just. I know this is probably the worst time and I know you’re still hurting but I—“ Harry’s shirt is soft under his fingertips, and he can feel the steady thrum of Harry’s heart. He tries again. “I mean. I realize things have gotten a little intense, and we haven’t had a chance to talk—“

Eggsy’s cut off as Harry makes a frustrated noise and darts forward to kiss him, tender and deep, with one arm wrapped around Eggsy’s back and the one still in a soft sling bumping awkwardly against his chest. Eggsy sucks in a surprised breath and then melts, his spine going liquid at Harry’s touch, his firm lips and the strong line of his body pressed against Eggsy’s front.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispers. “It was rude of me to cut you off, but I was sure I’d not get up the courage again.”

Eggsy, relieved, presses little nipping kisses to Harry’s jaw, to the elegant line of his neck. “You? God, Harry, you’ve never been afraid of anything.” He turns to place a reverent kiss against Harry’s left wrist. “Barely remember what I was going to say. But this means the same, anyways.”

“Indeed.” Harry takes Eggsy’s hand and leads him to the living room, now awash in the cool hue of a purple-skied evening. The sofa squeaks a little as Harry settles and then gently pulls Eggsy down to straddle his lap. It leaves Eggsy breathless to see him like this, from above, and the shock of what else he could be doing to see him in this position leaves him a bit breathless and twitching toward hard in his trousers.

Harry shifts a bit, takes Eggsy’s face in his hands and draws him closer, kisses his cheeks, his eyelids, the curve of his jaw. It’s a reverent and delicate exploration, completely at odds with Eggsy’s racing heart, but the anticipation of it is delicious all the same.

“I’ve never found someone who fits me like you,” Harry says, as he nuzzles into Eggsy’s neck. “No one I’ve known has ever accepted my eccentricities, my way of seeing the world. You, on the other hand, you and I are so beautifully made.”  Eggsy whimpers as Harry finds a particularly sensitive spot behind his ear, head buzzing with all of the things Harry is confessing. “So many times you could have told me off, so many ways I’ve led you down somewhat illicit paths of my own. And you were always there with me. Always my friend, my compatriot.  And now saviour. How could I not adore you?”

Eggsy closes his eyes and tries to pull his thoughts together from the scattered mess Harry’s made of them, but realizes he’s stuck on one thing. “I like that. Beautifully made. I do feel … it’s sort of dumb, maybe. But I do feel well fit with you.” He laces their fingers together and kisses Harry’s fingertips again, a deliberate echo of the moment Harry woke in hospital and Eggsy’s body had decided on this path without his conscious participation.

Harry draws him close and kisses him again more deliberately, deeply, with heated intent and slick precision. Eggsy’s heart shifts from warm, soft affection to a thrumming passion with every touch of Harry’s tongue to his own.

“Lest you think this would be a cold and barren romance of an older gentleman,” Harry murmurs. “I’m not that old.”

Eggsy laughs and then gasps when Harry shifts under him and he can feel the hard line of Harry’s cock under his arse. He wiggles a bit and grins when Harry takes a sharp breath. “After seeing the stunts you pull? Never.”

“I’m officially banned from stunts for the next few weeks, but I’m sure we could manage something in the meantime.”

“Well, given your arm and how you’re an old man and all, I don’t know if we should risk it.”

Harry huffs annoyance but then drags his thumb across Eggsy’s cock. Eggsy can’t stop himself from arching against Harry, but doing so leaves him dangerously unbalanced. A mischievous grin is all the warning Eggsy gets before Harry uses his powerful legs to flip Eggsy off to the side and slide his body directly on top, slotting himself between Eggsy’s thighs.

“Hi,” Eggsy says, grinning and hooking his heels around Harry’s calves.

“Hello there. I hope this isn’t too fast, but I couldn’t help but want to see what you’d look like under me, even if I’m still a bit at a disadvantage.” He wiggles the fingers of the hand in his sling and smiles. “I really want to touch you, Eggsy,” Harry adds, his voice dipping low.

“Disadvantage my arse,” Eggsy chokes out, going hot all over at the prospect of actually touching Harry, of having him bare and vulnerable and undone in Eggsy’s hands.

“Maybe later,” Harry says, winking.

“Oh my God.” Is this what it’s going to be like now, all the time? Between hot sex and Harry’s shenanigans and defying death on a regular basis, Eggsy will never survive..

“But first, I could use some help with our trousers. As much as I could just rub off against you right here, I have no intention of our first orgasms in each other’s presence to be unseen.”

Eggsy doesn’t waste time,  opens Harry’s flies and helps push trousers and pants down around Harry’s hips as he’s still balanced on one elbow. Eggsy gets his own pants down with a bit more difficulty, but as soon as he does they’re skin on skin, shirts shoved out of the way and plastered together at the groin like two teens trying to hurriedly get off on a parents’ sofa.

“Yes,” Eggsy hisses, their cocks sliding against each other, hot and sweetly sticky. “Perfect, Harry. Let me get a hand on, please.” It’s a bit rough to shove his hand between them, but Harry lifts slightly and that’s it, that’s perfect. He holds them together as Harry rocks against him, and he’s going to come much too soon if he stares at the blissed-out look on Harry’s face much longer.

“You gorgeous man, Eggsy, my Eggsy. Want to feel you against me,” Harry says, and every syllable has Eggsy panting, flushing hot with arousal. “Can’t wait to have you come down my throat, taste your cock, oh,” Harry suddenly gasps and growls and shoves hard against Eggsy’s belly, and he can feel the warm flood against his skin as Harry shakes above him. Harry’s  groans in his ear, a harsh whisper of “Eggsy, my love, let me feel you come, let go for me,” and Eggsy feels his orgasm wrap tight in his groin before it flashes outward for a breathtaking, suspended moment only to coalesce back into his body like a collapsing star.

“Oh my god, Harry. Oh God.” Eggsy says, and wraps one shaky hand around Harry’s neck, pulls him down and kisses him, and then realises. “Oh, hell, your arm!”

“Nonsense,“ Harry says, but carefully sits up and rolls his right shoulder and winces. “A bit asleep, but it’s fine. Painkillers are wearing off, though.”

“I’ll get more for you.” Eggsy pulls a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and wipes them both up before he settles himself against Harry’s side. “This okay for a bit?”

“Mmm.” Harry wraps his arm around Eggsy’s shoulders and kisses his hair. “Delightful, my darling. We’ll go upstairs in a few moments, yes?”

“This you asking me to stay? Harry, you romantic.”

“It is. And perhaps it’s probably a good idea for me to tell you now, before this goes much further, that as you’re still in your year-long probationary period, that we’ve just broken about six different rules against fraternization and may actually break a few more if this goes on.”

Eggsy looks at him, incredulous. “But I’ve only got like, four months left.”

“Indeed. But I’m your senior agent. It’s improper.”

Eggsy gives him a long look, which Harry returns. There’s a hint of amusement in his eyes, so Eggsy simply rolls his eyes, kisses him and settles back against his side. His choice was made the day he stepped into Kingsman HQ with a perpetually late and uncaring Galahad, and he’s never looked back.

“Yeah, well. It’s worth it. Don’t you think, Harry?”

Harry chuckles and pulls him in more closely. “Absolutely worth it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, all the thanks for beta services to BakerStMel and Mydwynter. You guys are the best, seriously.


End file.
